


Denial

by caffeineandjetfuel



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alpha!Martin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Awkward Boyfriends, Blow Jobs, Derogatory terms for a minority group, Discrimination, Gender politics, Happy Ending, M/M, Martin is ridiculously polite, Most everyone else is Beta, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Protective!Martin, Rimming, Sexy Times, Skipthur, Social Injustice, The angst level of a skipthur fic is surprising, omega!Arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeineandjetfuel/pseuds/caffeineandjetfuel
Summary: He looked innocuous. Unimportant and unassuming. No one that anyone would look twice at if he were a Beta, he thought with some bitterness. Finally he met his own blue eyes, the distinctive flecks of gold glinting in the light, an instant signal that he was an Alpha.
With a sigh, Martin opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed out the red bottle, and shook two caplets into his hand. He didn’t need to read the print on the side of the bottle, he’d memorized it long ago.
Alpha-Block Inhibitors reduce secondary gender characteristics by reducing the output of certain hormones.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaltonG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaltonG/gifts).



> This fic is for daltongraham, secret santa fandot exchange 2016. I really hope you enjoy it! Somehow it became much longer than intended, heh. Chapter two will be up soon! NSFW content will be included in later chapters~
> 
> Big thanks to jay-eagle for beta, the second pair of eyes really helped!

BeepBeepBeepBeep-Thud!

 

Martin’s hand crashed down on the alarm and silence re-established itself.

 

Smiling, Martin gave a wide yawn and stretched, unfolding his limbs and letting his feet drop to the cool hardwood floor. With a sigh of contentment he ruffled his curls to free them from the trappings of sleep and trotted down the stairs to the kitchen, the creak and groan of Parkside Terrace his only companion in the still of early morning.

 

Martin padded across the checkered tile floor and snatched the carafe up from the drying rack, setting the coffee machine to brew before he put the kettle on for the students’ morning tea. The coffee machine hissed in complaint and grudgingly filled the carafe and Martin closed his eyes to enjoy the moment before the house came alive with arguments about bathroom time and hot water and has-anyone-seen-my-lit-book.

 

Martin’s ears pricked as somewhere above he heard the first signs of life, his cue to shower if he hoped to get one this morning. The water rolled down his back in satisfying waves, trekking paths across his freckled skin. Steam fogged over the mirror while he brushed his teeth and he let one hand come up to swipe it away. He looked innocuous. Unimportant and unassuming. No one that anyone would look twice at if he were a Beta, he thought with some bitterness. Finally he met his own blue eyes, the distinctive flecks of gold glinting in the light, an instant signal that he was an Alpha. He raised his upper lip, baring his teeth to the mirror. Even like this he didn’t think he looked menacing. He touched the tip of his tongue to the sharp end of an incisor.

 

“Oi, hurry up in there, some of us have early classes!” A fist pounded on the door twice.

 

With a sigh, Martin opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed out the red bottle, and shook two caplets into his hand. He didn’t need to read the print on the side of the bottle, he’d memorized it long ago.

 

_Alpha-Block Inhibitor (Oxysertracyclaprine)_

_25mg_

_Dose: 2 Caplets each morning_

_Alpha-Block Inhibitors reduce secondary gender characteristics by reducing the output of certain hormones. Intended effects include lower aggressive tendencies and sense of smell. Alpha-Block Inhibitors are intended for use by individuals with the secondary gender Alpha. Do not take if you are Beta or Omega. Do not take if pregnant._

_Side Effects may include nausea, headaches, loss of appetite, low sex drive, anosmia, mood swings, depression, and suicidal thoughts or actions. Some individuals may experience blackouts when dizzy._

 

Martin tossed the pills back, swallowing hard and tracking their path down his throat until they settled, then slipped past Andy out of the bathroom. By the time he made his way out the door with a piece of toast dangling between his teeth and a thermos of coffee in hand, the sun had given up the pretence of a light airy day and bowed to the demands of the clouds. The rain beat down on him punishingly as he fumbled with his keys before ducking into his beat up Ford Focus.

 

“Morning!” Martin breezed into the portacabin and carefully peeled his drenched coat off, hanging it on one of the hooks. Outside the rain drizzled miserably on with apparently no intention of stopping. Not enough to stop them flying if Mr. Goddard showed up, but enough to keep them effectively cabin-bound.

 

Ruffling a hand through his curls to dislodge the raindrops still clinging, Martin scanned the room to find Arthur standing on a chair placed next to a bucket, precariously attempting to reach the ceiling with a strip of gaffer tape. For an instant he stared, his eyes climbing the long line of Arthur’s back as he stretched, his waistcoat lifting enough to reveal a length of red fabric beneath, the shirt not quite coming untucked in the effort but straining to. A shiver rolled over his back before awareness creeped through the light haze of _want_  and his muscles jumped into obedience ahead of his brain, bringing him to the Omega’s side in an instant.

 

“Arthur, careful!” Martin’s hands were on Arthur’s hips before he could think better of it, steadying him.

 

“Thanks, Skip! Just trying to get at this leak.” Arthur chirped cheerfully, leaning one knee against Martin’s chest for balance as he managed to finally stick the strip of tape over the small crack above. His task accomplished, he carefully climbed down, hands finding purchase on Martin’s shoulders until he was back at ground level. He smiled brightly, his eyes crinkling and dimples dipping merrily into place and for a moment Martin forgot to breath as he lost himself in those green depths, flecks of silver glinting against the florescent lights overhead.

 

“Arthur, there’s another one in my office.” Carolyn remarked sharply as she swung through her door at a fast clip. Martin jerked his hands away from her son, tucking them behind his back as he put distance between them with a backwards shuffle.

 

“Morning, Carolyn.” he said breathlessly, his heart hammering in his chest. Carolyn paused, freezing in place as her eyes narrowed and darted between the two of them.

 

“On it, Mum!” Arthur said affably, scooting past her into the office with his chair and roll of tape in tow.

 

“H-h-has Mr. Goddard called?” Martin stuttered, feeling his ears heat up with a blush as Carolyn’s focus now had only one recipient. Carolyn’s mouth pursed, her eyes calculating before she slid her gaze away and completed her march through the room to place a handful of papers on the desk.

 

“Not yet. Take care of these.”

 

Martin nodded quickly, picking up the topmost one before letting out a frustrated huff.

 

“But these are _Douglas’s_ -”

 

“I know very well to whom they belong and we both know who will be filling them out, Martin.” Carolyn interrupted in a tone that brooked no argument.

 

Martin swallowed the complaint and settled into the desk chair, picking up a pen. Carolyn crossed the room, settling onto one end of the lumpy second-hand couch and he could practically feel her eyes still trained on his back. He bit his lower lip in concentration, forcing down the instinct to look up and challenge her gaze. After a minute of reading the same sentence three times without really seeing it, the sensation quieted, borne to the back of his mind by the crinkle of a newspaper as her attention shifted to other things. Martin let out a soft exhale and read the sentence again before taking ink to the empty spaces, filling in his first officer’s log book dated three months ago.

 

Fifteen minutes passed in silence before Arthur rejoined them to find his earlier work undone as the strip of tape dangled from one end and the drip resumed into the bucket beneath. Before he could get to work on it he had located another two breaches needing tending and set about finding bowls and cups to catch them, saving them the forever scent of moldy carpet they would be subjected to should the damp truly settle in.

 

Martin smiled lightly as Arthur hummed a bit under his breath, the melody of whatever it was never quite catching a regularity that he could follow. Joined by the beat of water dripping, the steady patter of rain against the window, the rhythmic slide of pen on paper and the occasional rasp of newspaper pages, the tune wrapped the space up in a cocoon of familiarity.

 

Arthur half danced past him to get to the next leak and Martin took a deep slow breath, allowing the subtle tones of Arthur’s scent to play across his senses before letting out a sigh of contentment. Arthur always smelled of cinnamon and mulled wine, and it was a struggle not to think of his scent as the smell of Christmas. Something about it made him feel small and gripped with the edge of excitement, as if something wonderful was going to happen if he could just stay awake all night. Even with the medication dulling his olfactory receptors, Martin could pick up the faint undertone of gingerbread weaving into the mix, barely perceptible. He suppressed a shiver as he thought of what that meant; it hadn’t taken him long to realize that Arthur took his heat days about two days after the gingerbread fragrance became perceptible.

 

A tiny cold shock brought him back before the thought could take root and he blinked down at the water droplet on the back of his hand before frowning up at the ceiling.

 

“There’s another leak over here.”

 

“Right-o, Martin!”

 

Arthur plopped the chair next to him and scrambled up onto it.

 

“God, the rain’s horrible outside.” Douglas growled as he stomped in, then paused halfway through removing his coat. “...and _inside._ ”

 

“Douglas, you are forty-five minutes late.” Carolyn glared at him over the paper, not bothering to get up.

 

“Oh dear, how terribly remiss of me. And Mr. Goddard is, of course, so famously punctual. I _do_  hope I haven’t kept him waiting.” Douglas rolled his eyes as he tugged each sleeve off and hung up his coat.

 

“It’s a job, Douglas, a job for which you are being paid like any other and I expect you to be on time.” The two Betas persisted in a brief staring contest, a battle of wills before Douglas conceded with a huff of disdain.

 

“I am chastened and ashamed.” He said flatly, “Arthur, tea.”

 

“Uh, yep, will do, Douglas, just trying to fix this leak first.” Arthur replied, biting the tip of his tongue as he focused on finding the source of the drip.

 

“Oh well in that case, Arthur, _tea_?” Douglas shrugged as he wandered over to put the kettle on, digging the few mugs that weren’t busy collecting rainwater out of the cupboard.

 

“ _Wow_! You’re making _me_  tea?”

 

“I know, it’s a topsy-turvy day of misrule, isn’t it?”

 

“Lots of milk and sugar…” Martin mumbled under his breath as Arthur said the same above him.

 

Arthur’s head tilted down and he blinked at him before his mouth curved up in a pleasantly bewildered smile, as if Martin had muttered a magical incantation. Martin felt his cheeks burn with a blush as he buried his head back into the logbook that Douglas should be doing. Arthur turned back to the ceiling, a few more notes of whatever he was humming bubbling up.

 

“Hey, Douglas. You know when you get something going round and round in your brain?”

 

“Yes...though I’m a little surprised _you_  do.” Douglas responded lightly. Martin was the only one who caught the briefest stutter of tension in Arthur’s muscles and something deep in his gut coiled tight, a growl catching at the back of his throat.

 

“A-a tune, I mean.” Arthur clarified.

 

“Ah! Yes.”

 

“Well, I’ve got one of yours at the moment.”

 

“One of mine?” Douglas turned enough to display a raised eyebrow before he went about pouring milk into one of the cups before him.

 

“Yeah, something you were singing a few days ago, only I’ve only got the one line. Um, how does it go after this? Um…” And then a sound like a cat being strangled came out of his mouth. _Several_ cats, in fact. Martin cringed and winced with every additional attempt at the performance, wishing Arthur would just return to his soft hum and leave the song a mystery until Carolyn put an end to the caterwauling.

 

It wasn’t until another hour had passed that he rather wished Arthur would attempt to sing again, if only because it would mean he wasn’t alone in the flight deck, feeling hurt and isolated. A part of him longed for the steward to come after him, for the smell of cinnamon and gingerbread to wrap around him. The door opened behind him and Martin sighed, catching the barest tendrils of cedarwood and patchouli that heralded Douglas’ arrival.

 

“What do _you_  want?” he asked without waiting for Douglas to announce himself.

 

“Apologies, Martin. That was very childish of us.”

 

“Yes it ruddy well was.”

 

“Yes. Perfectly reasonable emergency procedure.” Douglas said, but Martin could hear the note in his tone that bespoke his just _not getting it_. “The hat makes it clear to confused, frightened passengers that you are in charge. Absolutely.”

 

Martin spared a look at Douglas, then averted his eyes, knowing that there was no way he could explain it that Douglas would really understand. Most people wouldn’t believe that an Alpha would ever be put in a position like captain in the first place. If Martin were to attempt to take charge of an emergency situation, even if his was the lone voice of reason amid chaos, most would think he was an errant Alpha off his meds. Some might even cringe away in fear. The hat was the only way he could conceive to gain some measure of control and even then there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t just see the base animal Alpha the media portrayed. Unbidden the memory of Mr. Leeman drifted through the back of his consciousness, his harsh tone as he bit out all manner of insults about Alphas.

 

“Exactly,” he murmured in response, “it’s nothing to do with showing off about being the captain.”

 

“Entirely sensible.” Douglas agreed with a nod, then hesitated. “Why _captain_?”

 

“Why captain what?”

 

“Why captain, in particular? If you just want to fly, there’s plenty of opportunity, even for an Alpha. Paths that might be...easier. Why make it harder on yourself? So long as you’re happy, who gives a toss how many rings you have on your sleeve? You always look like you _want_  to be the captain, and-”

 

“People assume I can’t be one.” Martin interrupted tersely. “ _That’s_  why captain. People think that an Alpha can only go so far in the field, and we should be happy with even getting that. Why? Why should I be grateful just to be allowed to fly? Why shouldn’t I want to be captain?”

 

“I didn’t mean to imply…” Douglas started, leaving the half-formed thought floating in the ether uncomfortably.

 

Martin took a stuttering breath for calm.

 

“I know.” he said hollowly. He couldn’t blame Douglas for not understanding. Douglas was a Beta like most of the population. Martin could see him making the effort, and he did appreciate it. Their first few months working together notwithstanding, Douglas was taking steps in the right direction, trying to understand a perspective so removed from his own. It wasn’t his fault he’d been raised in a time when Alphas were restricted to a handful of occupations. “I always wanted to be an airline captain. Before I even presented, ever since I was six.”

 

“I see. And before that?”

 

“An aeroplane.” Martin huffed a small laugh at the memory. “Why, what did you want to be?”

 

“Various things at different times. I studied medicine at university.”

 

“Coffee, chaps!” Arthur proclaimed as he slipped in behind them, placing a mug in front of each.

 

“How about you, Arthur? What do you want to do if you grow up?” Douglas asked.

 

“Huh?” Arthur blinked and leaned his hip against Martin’s chair back.

 

“When you were a boy, what did you want to be?” Martin said, wondering if Douglas realized that as a Beta speaking to an Omega, comments like that took on a less teasing and more condescending edge.

 

“Oh, well, I was a bit like you, actually, Skipper. I always wanted to be a pilot, too.” Arthur announced, hiding his mouth behind his own mug as his wide eyes flicked between them, gauging reactions.

 

“Good lord, really?” Douglas said with an uncomfortable level of disbelief. Martin felt Arthur shift closer to his chair, leaning more weight against it.

 

“Yeah.” Arthur tried to chuckle nonchalantly. “Obviously that was never gonna happen. Although, actually, when I was seventeen Mum did get me an interview at the, um, Oxford Aviation Academy, for my birthday. So I-I-I actually went up and I sat in the hall and the others started to come in and...I dunno...they all looked like proper pilots, or at least…...You know the Muppet Babies?”

 

“I fear they may have passed me by.”

 

“Well, it was this cartoon with baby versions of Kermit and Miss Piggy and everyone, and these guys looked like Muppet Baby versions of...well, you two. And anyway, the-the woman came out and said, ‘Arthur Shappey, you’re up,’ and all  the Muppet Baby pilots looked round to see who he was...and so did I. After a bit they decided he hadn’t turned up and went to the next guy. So, you know, part of me always wonders, um, what would have happened if I’d gone through that door.” Arthur shrugged lightly.

 

“Well, I can tell you, Arthur. They’d have made mincemeat out of you.” Douglas replied.

 

“Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

 

“You’d be a hopeless pilot. Not a cat’s chance in hell, right Martin?”

 

“I don’t know, I think if you work hard enough you can do anything.” Martin replied, thinking back to his own rejected applications to flight schools. The odds may be stacked against you, but it didn’t preclude your ability to get where you wanted to go.

 

“Awww, you guys are great!”

 

Arthur melted into an affectionate smile and leaned down to hug Martin, the angle plunging Martin’s nose into the crook of his neck near the scent glands. Martin swallowed a whine as he inhaled and was enveloped in the warm scent.

 

“I’ve got to get back to Mum.” Arthur said quickly and as suddenly as he was there he was gone, leaving Martin blinking in the aftermath of the onslaught.

 

“...You know you can’t, right?” Douglas said after a pause. At Martin’s questioning look he glanced pointedly at the flight deck door.

 

“It’s nothing.” Martin said quickly, swallowing the thick lump forming in his throat and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air. Douglas raised a brow at him. “It’s just been a while. I need a date. It’s a crush...Don’t tell Carolyn.”

 

“Mmm. If you say so.” Douglas hummed in response.

 

Several hours and at least half a bottle of wine later, Martin looked down at the picture he made wearing Arthur’s uniform. The shirt was far too long, the end of the cuffs trailing just below his fingers so he had to roll them up. It reminded him of a time gone by, trying on Simon’s clothes and imagining the day he’d be as big as him.

 

“Good evening, this is your captain speaking.” The intercom overhead crackled with Arthur’s voice and for a brief moment Martin’s wine-addled brain expected that he was right behind him, the scent infused in the uniform he was wearing throwing him off until he remembered that Arthur was pretending to be him right now.

 

“Alright, Martin, you’re on.” Carolyn slurred when the PA bing-bonged in completion, nudging Martin past the galley curtain. Martin stumbled but caught himself and managed to walk the handful of steps to Mr. Goddard with relative grace.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Goddard. Welcome aboard. My name’s Arthur. I’ll be your steward today.” Martin said with care, his mind a tumult of confusion as he tried to follow the shapes his mouth should be making to form each syllable.

 

Mr. Goddard spared him a glance, sniffed, and frowned, raking another long look over Martin’s person. Panic filtered up for a moment before Martin remembered that even though he was ‘Arthur’ he still smelled like himself.

 

“I-I-I am a fully compliant Alpha and have been administered Alpha-block inhibitors in the last twenty-four hours.” He tried to give what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Mr. Goddard continued to assess him for a moment before relaxing fractionally.

 

“Yeah, cheers, Arthur. Least you’re not the pilot, eh?” Mr. Goddard laughed lightly at his own joke and Martin bit his tongue in an effort to stamp down the urge to growl or throw up, he wasn’t sure which.

 

“May I offer sir a drink, sir?” he asked through gritted teeth, willing his tone to be as complacent as possible.

 

“Yeah, yeah, hang on, let me get myself sorted out.”

 

“Oh, absolutely, sir, but when you’re all nicely settled in, would you like me to bring you a drink? That’s all I was asking.”

 

“Yeah, all right. Mineral water.”

 

“Very good, sir. Would you like spill, or starkling?” Martin asked, proud of himself for holding it together as the plane seemed to tilt around him. They hadn’t taken off yet, had they?

 

“Just hang on a minute, can you?! _Alphas_ …” Mr. Goddard muttered darkly as he shook his head.

 

“Er, Martin, I’ll take care of this.” Carolyn said fuzzily, her grip on his arm anchoring him and making him realize he’d just clenched his fist.

 

“I’m _Arthur!_ ” He bit back quietly through clenched teeth.

 

“Oh, yes, yes. Arthur.” Carolyn chuckled to herself. “I’ll take care of this, Arthur. Sir, would you like a drink?”

 

“Yes, a still mineral water, no ice, all right?”

 

“Right! Go and get him one, Mar...thur.”

 

Martin blinked and tilted his head and the cabin tilted the other direction.

 

“Martha?”

 

“Arthur! Arthur!” Carolyn corrected and they both burst into giggles.

 

“What are you laughin’ at?” Mr. Goddard frowned, looking from one to the other suspiciously.

 

“I’m not laughing.” Martin tried to say with a straight face, but found that now he’d started he couldn’t hold back the snickers.

 

“Yes you are. And why’s your uniform so baggy?”

 

“I...recently lost a lot of weight?” He suggested as he wrestled his laughter into submission.

 

“And height.” Carolyn added, less than helpfully, sending them both into giggles again.

 

“Right, I’ve had enough of this. I wanna see the pilots.”

 

“Oh, no, no. I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.” Carolyn replied, her laughter dying in her throat.

 

“Take me to the pilots. Now.” he insisted, pushing past the two of them without waiting and stomping his way to the flight deck, where Arthur and Douglas were...juggling apples. Well, that was about par for the course.

 

“Bloody hell! Is this an airline or a circus?! You’ve got an Alpha in the cabin and an _Omega_ is the captain?”

 

Arthur looked flustered for all of half a second before he drew himself up to his full height.

 

“I certainly am. I am...the captain.”

 

“You? You’re _really_  a captain, mate?” Mr. Goddard looked skeptical.

 

“I am a captain, yes, and an Omega, and I can assure you that you may fully rely on my professionalism and my judgement.”

 

Martin’s jaw dropped half an inch, gaping at Arthur.

 

“Yeah. Fair enough, mate. No offence.” Mr. Goddard looked sufficiently chastised, his gaze dropping to his shoes.

 

“...not to mention my thirty years of flying experience.”

 

And the other shoe dropped.

 

“Hang on! Thirty years? How old are you?”

 

“...Well...if I qualified at eighteen...which I did...that makes me...forty-eight.”

 

“...Right, clearly this lot is legless, I wanna smell your breath, both of you.”

 

“Be our guest.” Douglas said with confidence, blowing out a breath. Arthur followed suit.

 

“All right…” Mr. Goddard grumbled, eyes still narrowed at the lot of them.

 

“Of course, if we’d been drinking vodka, you wouldn’t be able to smell it on our breath.” Arthur chimed in with a pleased smile.

 

“You’ve been drinking vodka? That explains a lot.”

 

“No, no, we haven’t! I was just saying, it’s an interesting fact.”

 

Mr. Goddard took a calming breath.

 

“All right, I don’t know what the hell’s going on here, but lucky for you I’ve got to be in Madrid by nine. So here’s how it’s going to go. You are going to fly the plane,” He jabbed a finger at Douglas.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Shut it. You are gonna watch, and not touch anything unless he tells you to.” He jabbed a finger at Arthur.

 

“I won’t tell him to.”

 

“Good. And you, and you,” He jabbed fingers at Martin and Carolyn, “are gonna sit in your little kitchen with a litre of water each and sober up. And no one is gonna juggle apples!” He punctuated the final statement with a stamp of his foot.

 

“...Fair enough.” Douglas shrugged, taking his seat. Mr. Goddard passed them all a final glare before returning to the cabin. “Sit down, Arthur.”

 

“What, there?” Arthur blinked.

 

“Yes, there.”

 

“But...that’s Skip’s seat.” Arthur pointed out.

 

“Yeessss....” Douglas conceded, “but he’s not using it.”

 

“But normally he is, and it’s _his_ seat, and I’m not Skip, I’m Arthur. I feel like GERT-I would know.” Arthur made a face as he struggled to find the words to express the oddity he apparently felt.

 

“That’s alright, Arthur, today you’re me and I’m you, right?” Martin pitched in.

 

“You _are_  wearing his shirt.” Douglas added, and Martin noticed for the first time how tight it was across Arthur’s chest, the buttons straining ever so slightly.

 

“Okay.” Arthur conceded, seating himself gingerly in the captain’s seat. “I feel like Skip is going to come in and sit on me.”

 

“Alright, Douglas, take us away.” Carolyn ordered before shooing Martin out the door into the galley.

 

By the time they arrived back in Fitton everyone was sober and exhaustion pulled at Martin’s senses as he changed back into his own clothes. He paused as he picked up his shirt, glanced around - as if anyone would be in the loo with him to witness it - and finally gave in to the urge and bunched the fabric at his nose, inhaling deeply. Immediately his body reacted, his nerves tingling and senses heightening, straining to reach out to some invisible entity while his brain chanted _Omega_  and his heart whispered _Arthur_.

 

And then he looked up, catching his own eyes in the mirror and his stomach dropped into his shoes while his shirt dropped to the floor. Martin swallowed hard as a lump of guilt built in his throat. He shouldn’t be indulging in this, it was dangerous. _He_  was dangerous. His own gold-flecked eyes blinked at him, horrified, but he no longer felt nonthreatening as he had this morning. Here he was sniffing his shirt because Arthur had worn it for a few hours. He was trapped, caught like a deer in the headlights by his own nature and it took him a moment to realize he had stopped breathing, some part of him expectant, waiting for punishment to rain down on him for letting his base urges rule him.

 

Martin shook his head, gulping in a hard breath as he tried to shake the feeling of foreboding, reminding himself that he wasn’t in school anymore. With shaky hands he dug into his flight bag, tugging free a t-shirt to pull over his head and stuffing _the shirt_  down to the very bottom.

 

“Carolyn, I’m off now.” he called gruffly as he passed through the portacabin, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. Arthur was dutifully aiming a hairdryer at a patch of carpet that hadn’t been so lucky as to be blessed by a bucket while Carolyn marked in some notes on the wall chart.

 

“Cheerio.” Carolyn called back. “Oh, Martin, did you leave a bottle of brown sauce on the flight deck, you revolting creature?”

 

“Oh,” Martin breathed half a sigh of relief as he let some of the tension slide from his shoulders. For a brief, blinding moment he’d thought that she somehow knew what he’d done. “No, actually, that’s Douglas’. I’ll drop it off on my way home.” Carolyn gave him an arch look that clearly asked the question ‘why the fuck’ and he stammered a response, “I-I-It’s a long, slightly weird story.”

 

“Then by all means, keep it to yourself.” Carolyn handed him the bottle. “Goodbye!”

 

Behind her, the phone started to ring. She cast it a cross look and Martin slipped out the door quickly before she could insist on him answering it. Before he’d gone far, the door behind him swung open again.

 

“Skip!” Arthur grinned breathlessly as he jogged to catch up. “Er, I loved being you today!”

 

“Oh!” Martin blinked in surprise, feeling like all the oxygen had left his body. “Well, I’m glad somebody does.” He tried to smile back but it must not have quite reached his eyes because Arthur got the thoughtful expression he always seemed to take on when he was picking up on emotions that ran deep.

 

“Well, I did. I think you’re brilliant!” Arthur said emphatically, his face open and trusting, and Martin dropped his gaze to his shoes as another wave of guilt crested over him. If Arthur had any idea what went on in Martin’s head he’d...probably be accepting and understanding, which just made it all the worse.

 

“Thanks, Arthur..." he mumbled, and then suddenly the Omega's arms were wrapped around him in a tight hug. Martin's eyes widened with surprise as the steward's head buried against his chest, nuzzling a bit, and he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in this moment, to hold him back just as tightly.

 

"Martin..." Arthur sighed so softly it was barely a word.

 

"I-I have to go now." Martin said, his hands shaking as he untangled himself from the younger man's grasp. His own heartbeat was deafening in his ears as he retreated, walking at the fastest clip he could without actually running from him.

 

“Bye, Skipper...” Arthur called at his retreating form, sounding slightly put out and confused.

 

Martin’s heart didn’t slow down until he was pulled into Douglas’ driveway.

 

“Oh, Martin!” Douglas froze like a statue in the doorway, the smell of cedar and some sort of pasta drifting out of the open doorway. Beyond him the entry looked cozy and entirely domestic, full of earthy tones and rustic wood.

 

“Hello, Douglas. I just stopped by to give you this, you left it on the plane.” He reached into his flight bag and pulled out the bottle, holding it up to the warm glow of light shedding out from a lamp within. Douglas took it quietly, his tone solemn and reserved as he gave a perfunctory thanks. His eyes darted left and right and Martin felt himself shrink inside as he realized it hadn’t even occurred to him he wouldn’t be welcome here. Self-horror crept up his throat as it hit him that he’d just shown up at Douglas’ house in Douglas’ secluded suburban neighborhood where Douglas’ stuffy neighbors could make judgments. Just because they were friendly on the flight deck did not mean that he could show this level of familiarity out in the real world. “I-I-I’m sorry, I-I just thought, to save your _anniversary_ , I thought…”

 

“I know, and I-I do appreciate it. I really do.” Douglas gave a tight smile bordering on a grimace.

 

“Well, I won’t keep you.” Martin said quickly, saving Douglas the trouble of asking him to leave himself, only when his eyes dropped to avoid the horrible eye contact they landed on his sleeve and he frowned. “Douglas, your epaulets! They’ve grown an extra bar.”

 

“...Oh, look at that! How silly of me! I must have put on my old Air England ones by mistake.”

 

“When?” Martin barked, his eyes boring directly into Douglas’.

 

“When?” Douglas echoed, clearly caught off-guard by the sudden shift as Martin straightened.

 

“ _When?_ ” Martin all but growled, instincts warring with his better judgement.

 

“Well, when I got dressed.”

 

“You were _not_ wearing captains’ epaulets during the flight! I would have noticed, believe me.” Martin snapped, then interrupted before Douglas could roll his eyes and make a snide comment, “Which means you must have-”

 

“Who is it, Dougie?” a woman called from another room, the tap of high heels approaching.

 

“No one, sweetheart. Just someone dropping something off.”

 

As easily as his fury had risen, it was gone again, doused like a flame by water.

 

“Oh! Hello.” Helena greeted him as she reached the door, and Martin noted the way she shifted to  tuck herself into Douglas’ side and angled him just slightly in front of her.

 

“Hello. I’m Martin.”

 

“Martin...oh, from MJN.” she pasted on a strained smile. “It’s so...nice of them, to hire an Alpha.”

 

“...Right.” Martin agreed after an awkward pause.

 

“Well, it was nice to meet you. Maybe sometime MJN will have a Christmas party and you can tell me all about how Douglas is as a boss. I know I’d hate to be his first officer.”

 

“Yeesss…” Martin said slowly, watching as Douglas averted his eyes and half-cringed, looking for all the world like he was waiting for the hammer to drop, for Martin to drop it, to smash whatever story he’d spun for his bond-mate. "Anyway, I’d better get home.”

 

Martin tugged the strap of his flight bag higher up onto his shoulder and trudged back to his car. Before he pulled out onto the road he spared a last look at the house, the two of them silhouetted in the light from one of the windows.

 

When Martin reached the top step to his little attic, he let his bag fall to the floor with a thud and collapsed onto the bed, one arm resting on his forehead. His head ached and he could really do with a cup of tea if he had the energy to go back down to the kitchen and fetch it. Instead he sighed out a breath, closed his eyes, and let himself fall into the hazy dark of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Morning, Martin.”

 

Martin froze and blinked in surprise as he entered the portacabin. Douglas  _ never _ arrived before him.

 

“...Morning.” he said after a beat. “You’re here...early.”

 

“Am I?” Douglas shrugged with practiced nonchalance that bespoke something was up.

 

Martin frowned suspiciously.

 

“Tea?” Douglas asked, holding up a steaming mug.

 

“...Sure.” Martin took the cup, peering into it and sniffing tentatively. It  _ smelled _ fine. “Thanks, I guess?”

 

“About the other night.” Douglas said just as Martin took a sip.

 

“Mmm,” Martin hummed as he tried to swallow quickly without choking.

 

“So?”

 

“...Soooo?” Martin echoed.

 

“What do you plan to do about it?”

 

“Do?” Martin frowned.

 

“You kept quiet in front of Helena, so what is it? First crack at the cheese tray? Have me call you ‘sir’?”

 

“...Douglas, are you asking me to blackmail you?”

 

“You’ve never once passed up an opportunity to correct someone on which of us is the captain, why else would you start now? So what will it take for you to never mention it again?”

 

“I didn’t mention it,  _ you _ did! Why did you lie to your bond-mate in the first place? Can’t stand to tell her an  _ Alpha _ is senior to you?”

 

“ _ What _ ?”

 

“You made your thoughts on that quite clear my first few months on the job.”

 

“I…” Douglas went quiet, stunned. “...I thought we’d got past that. I didn’t realize it still bothered you.”

 

“You called me an over-medicated Alpha on a power trip.”

 

Douglas grimaced and actually looked...ashamed of himself.

 

“That was wrong of me.” he admitted, scratching absently at the back of his head. “I had thought the position was mine and...then you came along. I lashed out and that was a cheap shot.”

 

Martin sank onto the couch.

 

“So then...why  _ did _ you tell Helena you’re the captain?”

 

“I  _ didn’t _ . She assumed. I just...failed to correct her.”

 

“Oh.” Martin took a much-needed sip of his tea. “Well, for what it’s worth, I won’t mention it. But I do think  _ you _ should. She’s your bond-mate, she’s not going to care whether you’re the captain or not, she loves you.”

 

“Thank you. I will...take that under advisement.” Douglas said thoughtfully.

 

Silence descended awkwardly upon the two of them.

 

“...Any idea what we’re doing today?” Martin asked, breaking the tension.

 

“No. Carolyn wrote us in as on stand but there’s no client listed on the wall chart.”

 

“She’s up to something.”

 

“I’d say so.”

 

“And we’re not going to like it.”

 

“We rarely do.”

 

“Good morning, useless.” Carolyn crowed as she entered, “Pack yourselves into my car, we’re going to Ipswich.”

 

“What’s in Ipswich?” Douglas groused.

 

“Oh, god.” Martin made a face. “I know what we’re doing.”

 

Douglas arched a brow.

 

“Safety and Emergency Procedures.”

 

“How on earth do you remember exactly where SEP courses are held at?” Douglas grumbled as they trudged across the car park. Martin shrugged.

 

“How on earth have you not been through one in, what was it you said, fifteen years?”

 

“That’s easy, luck.”

 

“Good morning, Douglas! Morning Skip!” Arthur cheered as they slid into their respective seats.

 

“Morning Arthur. How are you?” Martin smiled back.

 

“Brilliant!” Arthur beamed and popped a piece of toblerone into his mouth, chewing with a happy hum. His face was slightly flushed, the remaining aftermath of his heat and Martin very carefully  _ did not think about it _ . “I love road trips.”

 

“Yes, being stuck together in a tin can  _ on the ground _ is a change of pace, isn’t it?” Douglas snarked from the front.

 

“Jelly baby?” Arthur held up a bag. Martin smiled and grabbed a small handful. “Oh! Here!” Arthur handed Martin a small booklet. “Help me revise?”

 

“Oh, damn!” Martin groaned. “I forgot about the exam.”

 

“You forgot about the exam which is the  _ whole point _ of the SEP course?” Douglas chimed in unhelpfully.

 

“Shut up, Douglas. I’m rubbish with exams.” Martin could already feel the nerves rising up.

 

“Don’t worry, Skip! I’m no good with exams either. Here, I’ll help  _ you _ revise!” Arthur took the booklet back and leafed through it.

 

“Arthur, dear heart, given the sentence preceding your offer, I really don’t think that will help.” Carolyn said as she steered them around a corner a little too sharply, forcing Martin to lean heavily onto the steward.

 

“S-sorry.” he stammered, shifting as far back into his own space as he could.

 

“Not to worry, Martin, the way Carolyn drives we won’t survive to take the exam.” Douglas quipped.

 

“The way Douglas is going,  _ he _ won’t survive to take the exam. Go on and revise,  _ all _ of you. The last thing we need is the CAA to stop us flying because the first officer was making snide comments instead of helping.”

 

It was going to be a long drive, Martin thought to himself, watching the landscape whisk by outside his window. By the time they reached the center, Arthur had drifted into a light doze, still clearly exhausted from his heat. His head rested on Martin’s shoulder as he listed sideways, and Martin smothered the urge to turn his head those last few inches and bury his nose in his messy brown locks.

 

“Arthur, dear, we’re here.” Carolyn said with more gentle affection than usual as she reached back and patted her son’s knee. Arthur snuffled a bit and blinked his eyes open, then melted into a content smile as he shifted off of Martin and into his own space to stretch, leaving Martin feeling cold at the loss of his warmth.

 

They were greeted at the center by Dr. Duncan and Mr. Sargent, and with one whiff of Mr. Sargent’s gunpowder and spice scent Martin knew he was in trouble. The Omega glared liberally at him throughout the introductions and Martin sighed miserably. Real life was nothing like the seedy novels and films with their soft mewling Omegas falling over themselves for an Alpha. Besides Arthur, every Omega Martin had ever met had treated him like the worst kind of scum in order to avoid being seen as  _ that _ Omega.

 

“Oh, er, Captain Crieff?” Dr. Duncan called his attention back to the present as he nudged him to the side.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Before we get started with the lectures and exams, I just need a quick blood sample. Standard procedure, you understand.”

 

“Oh, right.” Martin made a face but held out his arm obligingly. Unbonded Alphas were required to submit to blood tests at any official course to ensure their hormone levels were within normal medicated bounds.

 

“There we go, not so bad, was it?” Dr. Duncan nodded to himself. “Now, first we’re going to have a lecture on group dynamics, that’ll just be the pilots. Afterwards I will meet with Carolyn to go over a few things while you undergo your CPR and first aid test with Mr. Sargent. Then we’ll do a few breakout sessions followed by the pool drill. After that there’s lunch, the exam, and the smoke-filled fuselage and all’s done.”

 

“Brilliant!” Arthur chorused.

 

Martin couldn’t really agree with Arthur on that one. 

 

~~~

 

“Alright, so this session is a breakout group, just for the captains...er, captain.” Dr. Duncan amended, shuffling papers around in his hand. After being stuck in a car with Douglas the ride over it was clear that they weren’t at their best when they had their group session. Douglas had been ten kinds of obstinate and every time Martin wanted to snap at him he would remember that Dr. Duncan was making an awful lot of notes on his clipboard during their verbal sparring match.

 

“Right.” Martin nodded and poised his pen over his own blank sheet, ready to take notes.

 

“Er, yes, so,” more papers shuffled, “So a common problem among captains is poor listening skills. You may seek to take command too often, overtake and direct the conversation, be overly competitive, let your ego get in the way of listening, be too aggressive...any of this seem familiar?”

 

Martin paused, hesitated.

 

“I…”

 

“I can see that it does.” Dr. Duncan smiled patiently. “Not to worry, it’s in your nature, and that is exactly what we are here to fight!”

 

Martin put his pen down.

 

“So today we are going to go over a few simple steps that can help you to be an empathic listener. Step one, Recognize. Listening happens with more than just your ears! Try to pick up on what the other person is feeling as they speak. So you might say ‘thank you for sharing how you feel’. This acknowledges and validates their perspective. Step two, Process. Keep track of what they are saying to you. Here you might repeat some things they said. Step three, Respond. Assure them that you have heard them and encourage further communication. You might say ‘that is a great point.’”

 

“That is a great point.” Martin echoed.

 

“Excellent! Making progress already. You may need to be aware of how you come across to your coworkers to avoid making them uncomfortable in initiating communication with you. You don’t want to come across as confrontational.”

 

“That is a great point.” Martin repeated, his ire rising with every additional thinly veiled reference to the Alpha stereotype. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, letting his fists clench where they wouldn’t be visible. Dr. Duncan seemed not to notice as Martin continued to repeat the phrase like a mantra to his every comment. It was a good job he seemed to be immune to sarcasm.

 

~~~

 

“That was brilliant!” Arthur exclaimed as he bounced into the locker room.

 

“Carolyn finally managed to coerce you out of the pool, did she?” Douglas asked from his seat on the bench, not bothering to look up from his phone as he flicked through it leisurely.

 

“Yeah. Lunch is up next! Brilliant!” Arthur cheered as he shucked his clothes without an ounce of modesty. Martin came to a grinding halt in the process of doing up the buttons of his blessedly dry shirt, unable to keep from staring.

 

Arthur was certainly a sight to behold, drenched head to toe. His muscles were toned but there was a typical Omega softness to the lines, some extra layer of fat that cushioned his body. Martin’s breath hitched as his gaze started to follow the trail of short hairs that led down until he realized exactly what he was doing and wrenched his eyes away, concentrating every ounce of his attention on the tiles beneath his feet. His cheeks burned as he sat down on the bench and adjusted his stance to accommodate the unending embarrassment in his trousers under the guise of tying his shoe. 

 

“Skip?”

 

“Y-y-yes?” Martin stammered out, meeting Arthur’s gaze before his eyes darted to anywhere but the Omega.

 

“Can you pass me a towel?”

 

“O-oh, yes, of course! H-here you are!” Martin took a towel from the top of the stack folded neatly beside him and held it out to Arthur at full arm’s length.

 

“Thanks!” Arthur seemed none the wiser of Martin’s problem as he scrubbed the towel vigorously over his hair and finished buttoning up his shirt. “Are you chaps coming, then?”

 

“Err…”

 

“We’ll catch up in a minute, Arthur.” Douglas chimed in. As soon as the younger man was out of earshot he erupted into a fit of snickers.

 

“What?” Martin challenged, red all the way to his ears by now.

 

“Nothing.” Douglas blatantly lied, his eyes making a brief dart to Martin’s lap before returning to his face. “This ‘crush’, how long has it been on for now?”

 

“I...er…” Martin’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a moment, occasionally letting a small aborted sound escape before he muttered something under his breath.

 

“Come again?”

 

“Eight months, alright?” Martin snapped, then lowered his volume with a furtive glance at the door. “Anyway, it’s not like anything will ever come of it. He’s got his pony club girls.”

 

“That’s true.” Douglas conceded, but looked like he had more to say.

 

“And Carolyn would hunt me down with knives.”

 

“That’s also true.” He still had that look.

 

“...Well, go on then, what?”   
  


“Nothing, just surprised, is all. You never struck me as the sort who gives up so easily.”

 

“Last week you basically told me not to pursue it!”

 

“Last week Arthur was on the verge of heat.” Douglas shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to collect yourself. See you at lunch.”

 

Martin watched his first officer saunter out and let out a long sigh, then turned his eyes to the ceiling tiles and thought about anything unappealing until his problem went away.

 

~~~

 

Martin’s head felt like it was full of sawdust and jelly beans. He groaned as he shifted, then blinked his eyes open and had a brief moment of blinding panic as he realized that this wasn’t his little attic or a familiar generic hotel room. The scent of chlorine was heavy in his nostrils, overwhelming enough to make him queasy.

 

“Good morning, Sir.” Douglas said, peering down at him. “Have a nice nap?”

 

“W-what happened?” Martin frowned and pressed his fingers to his temple in an attempt to massage away the throbbing beat of pain.

 

“We went from going in circles in the fuselage to becoming a rescue brigade for our captain. Not the most comforting thought.”

 

The fuselage. It all came screaming back. The smoke had been thick, too thick to see more than a few bare inches in front of his face. The fuselage seemed to go on forever, onward and onward they marched with no end. The lack of direction was making him feel dizzy and out of sorts, and he only had a brief moment to register that before he found himself listing sideways and falling, the floor beneath him opening to swallow him into blackness.

 

“I blacked out…” Martin muttered.

 

“Yes, Captain Obvious. Should we be concerned about repeat performances?”

 

“No. I...have an inner ear abnormality.” Martin lied. Douglas raised a disbelieving brow.

 

“When I get dizzy I sometimes lose consciousness. It’s perfectly airworthy.” Martin snapped, not sure himself why he didn’t just tell the truth. His mind told him there was no shame in admitting that the medication he was required  _ by law _ to take had side effects, but the thought of telling Douglas made bitter embarrassment rise in his chest.

 

“Fair enough.” Douglas raised his hands in surrender.

 

“I take it we failed the fuselage.”

 

“It’s looking that way. We have a meeting with Dr. Duncan and Mr. Sargent once you and Arthur have recovered.”

 

“Arthur?” Martin’s scattered senses snapped back into attention.

 

“Yes, after you passed out Arthur followed suit. The idiot took off his smoke hood to check on you.”

 

“Where is he?” Martin jerked himself to his feet, catching a hand on the wall to steady himself.

 

“The medics said it was a mild asthma attack, he’s no worse for the wear.”

 

“Where. Is. He?” Martin all but snarled. He was too worked up to enjoy the shocked and slightly intimidated look on Douglas’ face. Before he could respond, Arthur appeared in the doorway, bumping it open with his hip as he held two cups.

 

“Skip! You’re up!” he cheered merrily, seemingly none the wiser to the tension in the air.

 

“Arthur! Are you alright?” Martin found he was no longer in control of his body as suddenly he was touching the Omega, turning him around to different angles for visible proof that he was whole and well.

 

“Er, yeah, Skip, I’m fine.” Arthur replied, his tone full of bemused wonder. He melted into an affectionate smile. “I only got a bit smoke-filled is all.”

 

“You...you idiot!” Martin railed at him, and Arthur’s smile morphed into a surprised “O” shape. Martin didn’t blame him, he could hardly keep track of his own reactions. “Why? Why would you  _ do _ that? You could have...you idiot!”

 

“Skip…”

 

“You need to think before you do these things! Do you have any idea-I can’t even-Augh!” Martin’s fists clenched and unclenched, adrenalin was pumping through his body and he needed to  _ do _ something.

 

“Martin…”

 

“I’m not finished! You could have...And I...I don’t know what I would-”

 

And suddenly Arthur was...kissing him. Arthur was kissing him. Arthur was kissing him! The line of their bodies pressed together as the younger man opened his mouth against his and the dam that Martin had spent the last year building broke. 

 

Martin tilted his head and pressed forward, claiming the kiss, his hands on either side of Arthur’s face drawing him further in. Arthur made a surprised noise as his back hit the wall, pinning him against Martin’s body. Martin was vaguely aware of the cups clattering to the floor, splashing their contents over the tiles and the faint rustle of Douglas making a quick exit but then Arthur’s hands fisted in Martin’s shirt against his back and Martin had no idea how he’d managed to keep from doing this so long. Need thrummed through his body like a live wire, electrifying his senses as he plundered Arthur’s mouth. The younger man whimpered when Martin pushed further against him and Martin growled in satisfaction when he felt Arthur’s erection against his hip.

 

“Skip!” Arthur gasped as he broke the kiss to gulp in a breath, his head tilting to the side to bare his neck.

 

_ Mine _ .

 

Martin yanked himself away, stumbling back several feet as he suddenly came back to himself.

 

“I...I-I’m so sorry, Arthur. I shouldn’t have…”

 

Arthur hadn’t moved from his spot against the wall, catching his breath, but his eyes followed Martin’s movements as he started to pace, running his hands through his curls in a nervous habit.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I...I nearly...I was...I lost control.”

 

“Do you not fancy me?” Arthur asked, putting on a brave face even as his voice wavered slightly. “It’s alright if you don’t.”

 

“No, I...Of course I...It’s not that simple...”

 

Arthur took a step forward and Martin immediately stepped back, not trusting himself so close to the one man he couldn’t bear to hurt. Arthur took another step, and another, and another, and finally the tables were turned and Martin was the one with his back to the wall. Arthur smiled and leaned in until the tips of their noses touched.

 

“I fancy you, too.” Arthur breathed, then pecked a small kiss on his lips before leaning out of his personal space again.

 

“Y-you do?” Martin murmured, feeling slightly dizzy from the heady mix of Arthur’s words, his proximity, and the remaining adrenalin pumping through his system. Arthur gave a tiny nod.

 

“Go out with me?”

 

“Yes please.”


	3. Chapter 3

This was a mistake.

 

Martin ruffled his hands through his hair for the fiftieth time that morning, trying to tame his errant curls into something resembling attractive. Butterflies fluttered in his chest as he tried to remain calm and work up the nerve to leave his car and approach the door. The house loomed ahead, seeming impossibly huge and imposing. He huffed out a breath. This was ridiculous. It was just Arthur, he never needed to impress Arthur. Arthur was impressed by ants marching in a line. But also...it was  _ Arthur _ .

 

With a growl of frustration, Martin left the comfort of his car and made his way up the walk, then waffled at the front door. His arm froze in midair, hovering an inch away from the wood. He lowered it. Raised it again. He took a deep breath and made to knock at last when he froze again, hearing voices faintly on the other side.

 

“I’m about to go out, Mum!” Arthur called cheerily. He sounded excited and Martin smiled warmly at the thought that it was the prospect of going out with him that had elicited the tone.

 

“Yes, yes, fine, dear. Have fun with Libby or Poppy or whatever ridiculous name someone has come up for their children this time.”

 

“I will! Martin should be here any minute.”

 

There was a long, loaded silence.

 

“...Martin?” Carolyn asked, her voice barely audible now. “Not  _ our _ Martin?”

 

“Skip.” Arthur confirmed.

 

Another weighty pause.

 

“...I see.”

 

Martin swallowed hard. He should leave. He should just crawl back into his car and hide in his attic. Only he couldn’t do that, the only thing worse than facing the other side of that door was the idea of standing Arthur up. He bit his lip.

 

“Oh, Skip’s car is out front!” Arthur shouted enthusiastically, and then the door swung open and Martin stood frozen in place, his arm still poised to knock. Arthur took advantage of the opportunity to bury himself into a hug, tucking his taller frame under Martin’s outstretched arm. Martin met eyes briefly with Carolyn. The Beta’s expression was unreadable, but she held his gaze for only a moment before slipping through a side door into another room. Martin let himself relax fractionally and enjoy the Omega nuzzling him affectionately. His arms slowly wrapped around Arthur’s shoulders, as light as if he were made of glass.

 

“Brilliant.” Arthur sighed contently before letting go. He tugged the door shut behind him and beamed at Martin.

 

Well, Arthur,” Martin straightened and cleared his throat a little, trying to organize his thoughts. “Shall we?”

 

“Right-o!” Arthur bounced happily down the walk at Martin’s side and Martin found himself smiling despite himself. He envied the freedom with which Arthur lived his life, his apparent lack of concern for what others might think of him as he swung his arms more boisterously than was really necessary for the jaunt from front door to car.

 

At Adventure Island Mini Golf, Martin paid their admission, thanking the great unknown that Arthur was a man of simple taste. They got their clubs and balls and set up shop on the Hidden Cove challenge, which wound its way around the base of a volcano, past a waterfall and into a cave. Arthur placed his ball at the start, adjusted his stance, squinted at the hole, then his ball, then back at the hole again, wiggled his hips a little, bit his tongue out the side of his mouth, and finally tapped his club, scoring a hole-in-one.

 

Arthur let out a loud woop and pumped his fist in the air.

 

“Did you see? Did you see?” He asked excitedly, turning to Martin with his eyes gleaming.

 

“Y-yeah, that was brilliant!” Martin stammered, his cheeks flushing at nearly being caught ogling Arthur’s arse.

 

“Your turn, Skip!”

 

“A-Alright.” Martin stuttered. He lined up his shot, let out a breath, and...totally missed the hole.

 

“Go again!” Arthur cheered, and Martin nodded, taking another go at it and missing again.

 

“Ohhh, you’re really close now!” Arthur proclaimed enthusiastically, and this time Martin finally got it in. They moved along the course slowly, dictated by Martin’s lack of skill. As they went, Arthur greeted the totem poles by name, politely introducing Martin to each one.

 

Martin frowned as he eyed the seventeenth hole. Arthur had of course made it look like child’s play, managing to get his ball past the obstacles with an enviable ease. Martin, on the other hand, had held them up excruciatingly at every hole. It was lucky the place wasn’t very crowded or they would be holding up a line of players.

 

“Why the long face?” Arthur asked softly, his expression open and caring.

 

“...I’m not very good at this, am I?” Martin sighed, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor. Arthur tilted his head, thinking for a moment.

 

“Isn’t that brilliant, though?” he finally said.

 

“...It’s brilliant that I’m rubbish?” Martin raised a brow, not following.

 

“Yeah!” Arthur grinned. “Normally crazy golf is over really quick! This way we get to enjoy it longer!”

 

Martin huffed out a laugh, relaxing fractionally.

 

“You find a way to make everything brilliant.”

 

Arthur smiled and for a long moment their eyes lingered on one another.

 

A cough from behind them cut through the moment and Martin’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

 

“S-sorry.” He apologized quickly to the pair waiting behind them, then took a deep breath and tried to line up his shot. The ball putted against a few of the sides before hitting an obstacle and coming to rest only a few inches from where it had started. The Betas behind them snickered.

 

“Here, let me help!” Arthur offered emphatically, coming up behind him until they were pressed snugly together, his hands over Martin’s on the club.

 

“We can do this.” Arthur whispered, his breath ghosting across Martin’s ear. A shiver ran down his spine and then Arthur’s hold tightened ever so slightly and the ball went directly into the hole.

 

“Brilliant!” Arthur cheered, taking his hand and rushing ahead to lead them on to the last hole. Martin let himself be dragged along, leaving the other couple behind.

 

“So,” Martin began as Arthur set up for his final shot. “What is the secret to your incredible success in the world of crazy golf?”

 

“I don’t know.” Arthur grinned and took his shot the same as he had all the others, wiggling his hips and squinting at the target before taking the shot as if he hadn’t just been seriously eyeing it moments before.

 

“Your turn!”

 

“Alright.” Martin set up and took his time lining up his shot, trying to concentrate on getting it just right.

 

“If you get it in one I’ll kiss you.” Arthur blurted a split second before Martin took his shot. Martin choked on air and his club went off at an angle and with far more velocity than he’d intended, sending the ball careening through the air and over one of the obstacles, where it then bounced off a wall and rolled...right into the hole. Martin stared at it, his jaw slack.

 

“I...got it…?”

 

“You just think too much, Skip. That’s the secret.”

 

Martin sighed and turned to the younger man, a faint blush staining his cheeks as he ruffled the curls at the back of his neck.

 

“Did you...mean it? A-about the, er...the kiss?”

 

Arthur smiled and leaned in, his eyes sparkling. His head tilted just slightly, as if asking permission, and Martin mimicked him, holding his breath in anticipation. Their lips met softly, searching. There was none of the electricity of their last kiss, only a warmth that bloomed from within.

 

When they parted Arthur leaned his forehead against Martin’s, eyes closed as he took a deep, slow breath in. Martin took Arthur’s hand in his, lifting it between them to press a kiss against his knuckles. Arthur let out a small laugh, his eyes fluttering open. Martin smiled easily back, then turned, tugging lightly. Arthur followed his lead as they walked hand in hand, neither willing to break the silence for the moment.

 

“Ice cream?” Arthur finally asked, pointing to the Tiki Bar between the two courses. Martin nodded and they went to the counter, put in their orders, and settled at one of the smaller tables to enjoy their treats.

 

“How’s yours?” Martin asked, already guessing the answer if Arthur’s manic grin was any indicator.

 

“Brilliant!” Arthur cheered.

 

“Mine, too.” Martin delicately ate his, careful not to let the vanilla drip out of the cone. Arthur filled the silence with animated conversation and Martin hid his smile behind his cone as Arthur made a small mess by gesturing wildly with his ice-cream-cone-wielding hand.

 

“Uh-oh!” Arthur exclaimed when he noticed, transferring the cone to his other hand where it rested at a precarious angle as he licked a stripe up his other arm to try to combat the chocolate running down it.

 

“Here.” Martin took the cone from Arthur, rescuing the leaning tower of melting chocolate before it toppled onto the table and wrapping the base in a napkin.

 

“Thanks, Skip! I’ll just be a moment.” Arthur sprang up and made his way to the loo to clean up. Martin sighed after his retreating form.

 

“Breeders.”

 

Martin sighed again with a frown, feeling the weight of the outside world press on his shoulders again when he caught the low mutter. The morning had felt like a dream, a utopian bubble that nothing could penetrate and he had allowed himself to relax. He forced himself not to look at the offending party, though he could see from the corner of his eye that it was one of the Beta pair who’d been behind them on the course. The other one snorted and laughed at whatever the first had said and he felt their gazes on him.

 

“Martin?”

 

Martin blinked and looked up, finding Arthur’s concerned eyes staring back at him.

 

“Is everything alright? You weren’t responding.”

 

“O-oh, er, fine...fine. Fine. Let’s get out of here.” Martin stood abruptly, tossing the remains of their ice cream into the nearby bin.

 

“Skip?”

 

Martin didn’t respond, marching towards the exit as quickly as he could without jogging. Arthur trotted along beside him until they were back at the car.

 

“...Did I do something stupid?” Arthur asked at last in a small voice, and Martin finally met his gaze and immediately felt like an utter dickhead.

 

“No.” He said, heartfelt. “No, I did.”

 

Martin pulled Arthur close, crushing him in a tight hug. Arthur squeezed back, holding on as if for dear life.

 

“I’m sorry…” Martin murmured into his hair, the smell of mulled wine and cinnamon calming his frayed nerves. “I didn’t mean to ruin our date...give me another chance?”

 

Arthur pulled back enough to offer him a smile and nod he felt like he didn’t deserve.

 

“Come with me!” Arthur grabbed his hand and bolted off to the right, dragging him along a few streets as he sputtered and tried to keep up until they were at a park. 

 

“Stay here.” Martin blinked in the late afternoon sun, his mind whirring with uncertainty as he watched Arthur jolt off again and disappear around a corner in the path behind a small copse of trees. A few moments later he came running back, halting to catch his breath before revealing two small bread rolls in his hands.

 

“Arthur...what are we doing?” Martin finally asked, trailing along behind as Arthur lead the way down a side trail that ran along the edge of a pond.

 

“You’ll see!” Arthur sang as the path curved with the water. Around the bend a few ducks congregated and Arthur tore a piece of bread from one of the rolls and let it sail through the air to land in the midst of them, then turned and grinned at Martin.

 

Martin laughed. He couldn’t help it.  _ Of course _ Arthur had taken him to feed the ducks. Only Arthur would think of such a thing, and it was exactly what Martin liked most about him. Martin laughed long and hard, the breath coming out of him from deep inside as all of the bad just seemed to leave his body at once. Now that he’d started he couldn’t seem to stop.

  
“Arthur…” Martin wheezed as he tried to catch his breath and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “You are _ brilliant _ .”


	4. Chapter 4

“Martin, we need to talk.” Carolyn jerked her chin in the direction of her office. Martin followed her, wishing for all the world that the ground would open beneath his feet and swallow him whole. She settled behind her desk. As small as she was it was amazing how imposing she could be.

 

“Sit.”

 

“I-I’d rather...er...okay.” Martin sank into the chair, his legs turning to jelly.

 

“You and Arthur are dating.” Carolyn stated, mincing no words. Martin nodded, his mouth as dry as cotton balls.

 

“Martin, I say this with the best possible intentions...I don’t like it.”

 

Martin started to open his mouth but Carolyn cut him off with a sharp glare.

 

“Arthur is a special boy. He doesn’t understand the life he would be signing up for if this becomes serious. I don’t need to tell you that bigotry exists. It is very likely he won’t recognize he is in physical danger until it is already upon him. That being said, Arthur is - against all odds - an adult. He can make his own choices.” Carolyn folded her hands together and stared hard into his eyes. 

 

“I won’t let anyone hurt him.”

 

“Then you may go.” Carolyn waved her hand at him, turning her attention to her computer screen and feigning busyness. Martin started to go but paused halfway to the door.

 

“Arthur  _ is _ special,” He said, turning back. “But he’s not stupid. He understands, he just doesn’t hold onto it.”

 

There was a glimmer of respect in her eyes and the worry lines that creased across her face lightened just slightly. He made to leave.

 

“If he  _ does _ get hurt, there is no country on this earth that could harbor you.”

 

Martin swallowed and beat a hasty retreat. Carolyn was still terrifying.

 

~~~~~

 

“I have a question!” Arthur announced, drawing Martin’s attention to the Omega tucked under his left arm. They were curled up together on Martin’s rickety old bed, Arthur’s laptop balanced on their legs with a black and white film playing. Arthur adored film noir and Martin loved watching his lips move minutely, silently mouthing his favorite lines. It was the most reserved he ever saw the younger man when enjoying something; most other film genres required a few feet of space between them to allow for Arthur’s flailing.

 

“Yes, Arthur?” Martin prompted.

 

“My heat is next week.” Arthur said, a simply stated fact that made Martin sit up and nearly send the laptop flying when his knee overturned it. He managed to save it just barely, catching it with fumbling hands and pushing the lid shut before setting it aside and twisting to face Arthur fully.

 

“I, er, I-I-I’m not sure that me sharing your heat is a good idea…” he stammered apologetically. To tell the truth, the thought of it terrified him to his core. He wanted Arthur so much he could hardly contain himself already. He had no idea how heat pheromones might affect him. He’d never been exposed before.

 

“That wasn’t my question.” Arthur laughed lightly, trying to squish himself back into the comfortable position he’d been in before Martin had moved.

 

“It wasn’t?” Martin blinked, trying to work out what to make of that.

 

“I don’t want to share my heat with you yet.” Arthur said with a shrug. “Maybe next time.”

 

“Oh...o-okay…” Martin replied, his voice sounding far away even to him as his mind raced to put Arthur’s words into context. Was Arthur not attracted to him? Or worse, was Arthur afraid of him, to be in heat around an Alpha? His thoughts must have been telegraphed on his face because Arthur leaned into his ear and whispered.

 

“I am  _ definitely _ interested.” he punctuated his statement with a light roll of his hips against Martin’s.

 

Martin’s heart sped up as Arthur’s nose tickled his neck, circling lightly before pressing just so against the scent gland there, sniffing lightly. Colored spots burst into Martin’s vision as a responding wave of arousal smacked him in the face and without thinking he chased it, breathing deeply against Arthur’s neck in turn. His breath came a little sharper and he couldn’t help but dart his tongue out to lave against that spot, wondering if the flesh there would taste as good as it smelled. Arthur leaned over him, one leg draping across his thighs as he sought out a better vantage point.

 

“Can I?” Arthur murmured against his skin.

 

Martin made a strangled noise as he realized Arthur’s fingers were flitting around the waistband of his trousers, his silver-flecked eyes waiting for a response. Martin keened a little before nodding voraciously, and Arthur made short work of his belt and fly. As soon as they were free the Omega’s hand dove in, seeking him out. Martin gasped in a breath when contact was made, his grip on Arthur’s hips tightening.

 

“Wow…” Arthur breathed, his slim fingers trailing up his length and playing along the slight swell where his knot would form. “I’ve never seen a knot before! Except in movies.”

 

Movies? An image of Arthur masturbating to Alpha porn filled his vision. Arthur was going to be the absolute death of him. He groaned his name in response, trying to convey the sentiment through the only noise he still had the mental capacity to make. Arthur adjusted his grip, tightening his hold slightly before giving his cock a proper full stroke. Martin’s muscles shook with the effort not to thrust upward into the touch.

 

“Ohhhhh Martin,” Arthur breathed, pupils blown wide with arousal. There was something about the sound of his name that made Martin almost come right there. “Can I use my tongue?”

 

“Yes, yes, god yes.”

 

Arthur grinned and slid down, wasting no time in building up the moment before he set about enthusiastically reducing Martin to a puddle of shameless begging. Every sweep of that talented tongue made Martin moan for more. He clenched his fists against the sheets, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Arthur bobbing up and down.

 

“Ah, A-Arthur...I’m gonna...gonna…” Martin whimpered with need when Arthur used one hand to squeeze at his growing knot. Heat pooled in his stomach, gathering and growing there until he tensed, his body shaking as he came hard. Arthur swallowed the first few spurts easily before pulling away to dive up into a breathless kiss. Martin kissed back roughly, pulling the Omega closer even as he shuddered through another bout of it.

 

“Want to touch you.” He breathed out heavily against Arthur’s lips, then kissed him again with abandon, using the momentum to flip them and pin Arthur beneath him. Arthur clutched him closer and took one of his hands, leading it in a trail from his shoulder down his chest to the bulge in his trousers. Martin cupped him through the fabric, dipping his head to trail kisses down his neck. Arthur’s hands wriggled down between them, quickly unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down.

 

“Please.” He gasped, arching up into Martin. A fog of pheromones flooded Martin’s senses when he caught Arthur’s scent and another wave of orgasm crested. With a growl, he wrapped one hand around his knot, squeezing lightly to relieve some of the almost painful pressure.

 

Martin dropped down to Arthur’s waist, then paused, glancing up into Arthur’s pleading silver gaze. He pulled back slightly.

 

“Martin?” Arthur whimpered.

 

“Turn over.” Martin lifted Arthur’s hips slightly, helping him as he scrambled to do so and adjusting his position to take the strain off his trembling legs. His hands trailed lightly over the smooth skin of Arthur’s thighs, then he nipped his left arse cheek, earning a small jump. He tightened his hold slightly as he maneuvered his position and dipped his head to bury his mouth against Arthur’s hole, lapping at the slick that had accumulated. The scent of Arthur invaded his senses, the taste sweet but with a slight unexpected tang to it.

 

Arthur yelped loudly, pressing back into Martin. His head thrashed a little against the sheets, babbling pleads for more as he rocked against Martin’s tongue. Martin took his time, exploring thoroughly with his mouth until all sense of time was lost. He wanted more. He wanted to possess him and be possessed by him. He wanted to learn all there was to know about him. He wanted to give Arthur everything.

 

“Please,” Arthur half-sobbed on a moan, his voice cracking with desperation. “Ohhhhh Skip I need to come. Please, please touch me.”

 

Martin took Arthur in hand with a growl and stroked him firmly once, twice, and with a strangled cry Arthur came in a rush, his legs collapsing underneath him.

 

Martin crawled up shakily, wrapping him up in his arms and tucking him under his chin protectively.

 

“Oh...that was...brilliant.” Arthur declared, still trying to catch his breath between words.

 

Martin laughed into his hair, revelling in the satisfying ache in his jaw. They lay together in silence for several minutes, and Martin almost thought Arthur had fallen asleep when he tilted his head and shuffled around to face Martin, nose to nose.

 

“I did have a question, though.”

 

“Oh, right. What was it?”

 

“I wanted to know...if I could keep this? For my heat?” Arthur tugged a bit at the neck of the jumper he was wearing, one of Martin’s. Martin blinked in surprise.

 

“Oh! O-o-of course!” he stammered, embarrassed by how much the Alpha in him loved the prospect.

 

“Brilliant!” Arthur buried his nose under the edge of it. “It smells like you.”

 

Martin smiled at the picture Arthur made, looking thoroughly debauched and buried in Martin’s sweater.

 

“Can I ask…? Why don’t you suppress your heats?” Martin asked. The question had crossed his mind more than once before, and while he knew it was really none of his business he was curious. Most Omegas used suppressants, especially if they weren’t bonded. The fact that Arthur didn’t had been a curiosity since he’d started at MJN.

 

“I don’t like the way they make me feel.” Arthur said, making a small face reminiscent of a child discussing eating their vegetables. “They make everything seem...distant. Like I’m not connected to anyone. I don’t like it.”

 

Martin nodded a little. Alpha-Block Inhibitors had a similar dampening effect, although it eased with long-term use. Arthur stretched a little and sighed happily.

 

“After my heat we have a trip to Russia! We should go see the building with all the swirly ice cream tops!”

 

“Swirly ice cre- Do you mean the Kremlin?” Martin chuckled a little. “That’s in Moscow, I’m afraid. We’re due in St. Petersburg.”

 

“Oh. Right. St. Petersburg. Brilliant!”

 

~~~~~

 

St. Petersburg was  _ not _ brilliant, Martin decided as he mulled over the events that brought him to the holding room he was currently sitting in.

 

~~~~~

 

“Post take-off checks complete.”

 

“Thank you, Martin.” Douglas said congenially, then shook his head fondly and added, “Go on, then, I know you want to.”

 

“Thanks, you have control.” Martin unclipped his safety belt and threw it over his shoulder, slipping through to the cabin.

 

“I’ve only got a minute. How are you feeling?” he asked, pressing an affectionate kiss into Arthur’s hair.

 

“Ssshould just stop being hurting now!” Arthur half-shouted in response, slurring heavily and pouting his lower lip out with a frown, red and swollen from the ordeal of removing his keys from them. Martin ran a hand through his hair soothingly and stopped him from wriggling out of the seat.

 

“Try to get some rest, it’s a long flight home.”

 

Arthur nodded pathetically and closed his eyes, leaning his head back. Martin smiled softly and started to return to the flight deck, then paused and turned back when he heard Arthur mumble something. 

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Love you, Skip.” Arthur sighed. Martin melted in place despite the cold.

 

“...I love you, too.” He whispered back, his eyes trailing from Arthur’s peaceful expression to his undone lap belt. He found the loose ends and clipped them together, giving a light tug for good measure before slipping back into the flight deck.

 

“How is he?” Douglas asked with a yawn.

 

“Sore-lipped and accidentally drunk.” Martin said as he plopped into his chair. He was just pulling his own belt down when the plane shuddered and lurched violently, pitching sideways.

 

Martin cried out in surprise, his grip tightening and saving him from going flying, although his head hit the corner of the dash in the effort. The panel in front of him lit up in an array of colors as the fire bell flared to life, beeping insistently.

 

“Christ! Engine fire, number two engine.” Douglas reported while Martin quickly clicked his safety belt into place.

 

“Oh God! Er, engine fire check list, number two engine.”

 

“Engine fire check list, number two engine, Captain. Number two thrust lever?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Closed. Number two fuel control switch?”

 

“Yes, yes!”

 

“Number two fuel control switch to cut-off. Number two fire handle check?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Number two fire handle pulled.” Douglas pulled it and the alarm went silent, leaving Martin feeling temporarily deafened in the silence that was broken only by their own breathing.

 

“Number one extinguisher fired, stopwatch started. Fire bell cancelled.” Douglas reported.

 

Martin took a deep breath and turned on the radio. “Mayday, mayday. Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, suspected bird strike. We have one engine on fire. Request immediate return and priority landing St. Petersburg.”

 

ATC responded immediately with a cleared approach and contact directions and they each turned to their tasks, gently maneuvering the old plane back around. Martin’s hands trembled against the buttons and switches of the panel. The pilots looked at one another, their gazes holding for a moment.

 

“Martin, do you want me to land it?”

 

“No. I’ll do it.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He drew his hands away, placing them firmly on the control column in front of him. With a deep breath, he steered them down, into the darkness. It was strange how slowly moments like this played out. The minutes ticked away in silence as they descended. And then, all too soon the icy runway rose up out of the gloom to meet them and they were rolling instead of gliding and then, as if nothing were amiss at all, they came to a stop.

 

The moment stretched out, absolutely still.

 

“Captain?”

 

Martin blinked and released his grip on the column, then fumbled blindly against his safety harness until it came undone. A hand appeared in front of him and he took it without a thought, letting it pull him up to his feet.

 

“W-we lost an engine.” he said dumbly, uncomprehending, as Douglas guided his arms into his thick parka. He followed the first officer when prompted, leaving the confines of the flight deck as if in a dream. Douglas was saying something but Martin didn’t follow it, just nodded along as he was prodded out into the blistering cold. He shuddered as the cold bit through his thick coat, chilling him to the bone. If nothing else it helped to clear some of the fog from his brain. Smoke plumed up from the old plane, billowing into the sky. Martin watched it for a moment, feeling hot tears prickling behind his eyes. GERTI had been home to so many precious memories.

 

“Arthur.” Martin gripped Douglas’ arm as the thought finally made its way through. “A-A-Arthur.”

 

Douglas squeezed his arm in response and tugged him along until they were inside, then nudged him onto a bench. A paramedic shone a light in his eyes and he recoiled, squinting against the bright. 

 

“Where’s Arthur?” he asked immediately.

 

“I’ll check on Arthur and Carolyn. You stay put.” Douglas said in a tone Martin had come to think of as his ‘dad’ voice.

 

Martin followed the instructions the medical tech gave him with frustration, adrenaline singing through his veins.

 

“Stop fidgeting, it’ll only take longer.” The medic said, tilting Martin’s head to dab at the cut on his forehead and put a plaster on.

 

Martin growled under his breath but obeyed.

 

“Well, the good news is it looks a lot worse than it actually is. You may have a minor concussion, though.” The paramedic said at last, releasing him.

 

“Can I go now? I need to find- Arthur!” Martin shot up the moment the younger man came into view.

 

Arthur smiled brightly, looking no worse for the wear. Martin pulled him close, crushing him against his chest and burying his nose in his neck, the warm scent reassuring him. Arthur sighed and took a deep breath against his skin in return. His hand settled over Martin’s, entwining their fingers, and the other lightly touched the plaster on Martin’s forehead.

 

“How’re you feeling?”

 

“Feeling? Feeling. I’m feeling, feeling fine. I’m absolutely fine, fine. How-how-how are you? Sobered up?”

 

“Yeah, actually. It turns out a  _ really _ good cure for being drunk is when you’re on a plane and then an engine explodes and you think you’re gonna die.”

 

“You should write in to the British Medical Journal.”

 

“We  _ didn’t _ die, though, did we?” Arthur grinned, his eyes twinkling.

 

“No. No, no, we didn’t.”

 

“Because  _ you _ landed us, brilliantly.”

 

Martin flushed with pride, laughing softly. He bit his lip a little before admitting, “Wasn’t bad, was it?”

 

“It was  _ amazing! _ ” Arthur cheered, squeezing him to punctuate the statement. “It was like Douglas did it, but  _ you _ did!”

 

“Thank you.” Martin tried to force the smile away but even under these circumstances Arthur had a way of making him want to grin ear to ear.

 

“I wanted to get you a nice hot cup of coffee, but it was cold...and horrible...and I’m not even sure it  _ was _ coffee.” Arthur said apologetically. “I could bring you just the cup, though! Sometimes just holding one makes you feel a little better, like having a cuppa before bed.”

 

“That’s alright, I’d rather just have you.” Martin admitted, giving his hand a light squeeze. “How is Carolyn?”

 

“Mum says that we can’t afford to fix GERTI.”

 

“W-what?”

 

“She says we haven’t got the money for a new engine.”

 

“W-W-Why do you sound...not upset…?”

 

“Well, Douglas will think of  _ something _ .” Arthur said with a shrug as if it were the obvious solution.

 

“I...I don’t think that’s the sort of thing Douglas can fix…” Martin said hesitantly.

 

“How are we doing, then? How’s the head?” Douglas asked as he came up.

 

“Fine.” Martin brushed off the concern. “Where’s Carolyn?”

 

“Making a call.”

 

“Who’s she calling?” Arthur asked lightly.

 

“Your dad.”

 

Immediately Arthur stiffened against him, then pulled back a few inches into his own space.

 

“What? Dad? Why?”

 

“Seems he’s our best chance of selling GERTI.”

 

“No!” Arthur barked, his tone pitching upwards. “No, he can’t have GERTI.”

 

“Why not?” Douglas and Martin shared a befuddled look.

 

“He just shouldn’t have her. A-and anyway, then  _ we _ wouldn’t have her.”

 

“Arthur, we keep telling you, we can’t afford to fix her.” Douglas started, keeping his voice resolutely soothing and calm.

 

“But I keep telling  _ you _ , you’ll do something clever and it’ll be all right.” Arthur snapped irritably.

 

“What’s he like, then, your dad?” Martin frowned.

 

“Ooh, he’s er...He’s, errr...He’s er….” Arthur’s mouth opened and shut like a fish as he tried to find the words.

 

“Good Lord, Martin, I think you’ve broken him.”

 

“No-no-no - It’s just that he’s errr...He’s, errrrr….”

 

Martin stared at Arthur with concern, one hand coming to rest at the small of his back for support.

 

“I think…” Douglas started slowly, “I think what we may be witnessing here is Arthur attempting to describe something with an adjective  _ other _ than ‘brilliant’.”

 

“Yeah, no-no, I-I wouldn’t say he was br...I mean, obviously  _ everyone’s  _ br……..No, he’s  _ not _ brilliant. He’s, errr….He’s all right.” Arthur shrugged at last, his fingers fidgeting nervously picking at invisible lint on his trousers. His face had become increasingly reddish-purple during the effort.

 

“God…” Martin breathed, horrified. He’d never seen Arthur like this. “He must be  _ awful! _ ”

 

“I’ve spoken to him. He’s coming straight here.” Carolyn said as she joined them, annoyance clear in her expression.

 

“What, now?” Martin blinked in surprise.

 

“Dad’s coming  _ here _ , now?” Arthur swayed a little on his feet as panic seemed to grip him. “Oh. Okay. Right. Okay. What shall I do? Shall I get him a present? What does he like? I’ll get him...a present. I-I-I’ll get something from the duty free.”

 

Carolyn started to say something but Arthur was beyond hearing her now.

 

“A TOBLERONE! I can get him a Toblerone! Brilliant! Problem solved! Don’t panic, we’ll be fine. It’s all right. Okay, I’ll go and get one now!” Arthur dashed off and Martin gave Carolyn a worried glance before taking off after him.

 

By the time he caught up to the Omega in the duty free, his head was swimming from the rush. Definitely a concussion, then.

 

“...Arthur?”

 

Arthur sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, offering a watery smile.

 

“Hi Skip!”

 

Martin opened his arms and Arthur threw himself into them, knocking the air out of him for a moment. He held him tight, wishing he knew how to make it better, or at least knew what had happened. It was frustrating, feeling like he was battling something invisible and losing the fight because Arthur was already hurt.

 

“I wish I knew what to say…” he murmured into Arthur’s hair. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“Help me find the Toblerones?” Arthur requested, biting his lower lip and looking absolutely lost.

 

“Of course.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Any luck?” Douglas asked as Martin and Arthur slipped into the office. Martin shook his head, disheartened.

 

“I don’t understand it.” Arthur lamented, “I’ve never  _ been _ to an airport that didn’t have Toblerones. I mean, okay, sometimes they don’t have the white ones or the black ones, but not even to have the normal ones!”

 

“Arthur, I just realized, you’re half Australian.” Douglas interjected.

 

“He is? You are?” Martin blinked in surprise.

 

“Yeah!” Arthur chirped with a big grin.

 

“Technically.” Carolyn added dryly, clearly in no better mood with Arthur’s father roaming the airport. “Gordon’s finally finished, by the by. He’s on his way here.”

 

“Ohhh…” Arthur fidgeted nervously, twisting around the bag containing his eventual purchase from the duty free. He looked down at his shoes with an uncharacteristic frown. A few minutes ticked by in silence before a sharp knock at the door made them all jump.

 

“Ready?” Carolyn asked, standing and looking to each of them in turn. Everyone straightened.

 

“Yes.” Douglas nodded.

 

Martin looked at Arthur.

 

“Arthur?”

 

“Yeah.” Arthur whimpered plaintively, clutching the bag.

 

“We’re ready.” Martin said, bracing himself for the worst.

 

“All right. You can come in.”

 

The door swung open to reveal Arthur’s father at last. He was a tall man with a sturdy build, though middle age had gifted him with some extra weight around the middle. Other than stature, there was very little to suggest familial resemblance with Arthur. Where the younger Shappey sported laugh lines the older held the severe marks of someone who frowned and furrowed their brow often. Martin tried not to wrinkle his nose at the sickly sweet scent of the older man.

 

“Hi there, Carolyn.” Gordon said, leaning back on the balls of his feet with his arms crossed and sending a vicious smirk across to her. “Hello, Arthur.”

 

“Hi! Hi, hi, er, Dad.” Arthur laughed anxiously and then froze up a bit when Gordon’s shoulders twitched with tension. “Er, that’s not funny, that’s who you are. Hi. Er, um, I-I got you something.”

 

Arthur held the bag out at arm’s length, his arms practically shaking before Gordon relieved him of it and pulled out the bottle within, inspecting it silently with an air of judgement. Arthur swallowed hard.

 

“They didn’t have any Toblerones,  _ incredibly _ , so I got you some gin, because it’s called Gordon’s gin and you’re called Gordon!” He tried to smile but got no response. The silence dragged for a moment before he continued nervously, “So whenever you want to know which gin is yours, it’ll be the one with your name on it! And...a-a-and whenever you want to know what your name is, it’ll be written on your gin.”

 

“...Well, that’s a nice thought, Arthur.” Gordon said, setting the bottle on the desk.

 

“You’re welcome!” Arthur said breathlessly, finally breathing normally again.

 

“Are these boys your crew, then?” Gordon asked, then levelled his gaze on Martin. “You must be Captain Crieff.”

 

“No, I…” Martin started, then caught himself. “Well, yes, actually. How did you know?”

 

“Well, look at what a mess she is! You think she can afford a proper crew? Of course she hired the Alpha who failed his CPL.” Gordon crinkled his nose in disgust. Martin let out an embarrassingly high pitched noise of indignation. “Yeah, I looked you up. And another pilot who got thrown out of Air England for having sticky fingers. A bloody joke is what you lot are.”

 

Gordon rounded his attention back onto Carolyn.

 

“You couldn’t even fly the bloody plane, you just took it off me and decided to play airline because that one is too stupid to hold down a job his mother didn’t get for him.” Gordon pointed at Arthur.

 

Something inside Martin snapped and without a second thought he let loose and punched Gordon directly in the face. He watched as if from outside his body as his hands gripped the front of Mr. Shappey’s shirt, dragging him out of his slump until they were nose to nose.

 

“Don’t you ever  _ dare _ !” he snarled, his voice sounding so unlike him that he hardly recognized himself.

 

Gordon had the presence of mind to look genuinely terrified until Douglas wrestled Martin’s hands from him and he was able to stumble back a few feet. He gingerly wiped at his nose, which was just starting to bleed much to Martin’s satisfaction, then his expression contorted with dark rage.

 

“Ohhh, you’ve done it now.” he hissed, his tone a promise of retribution. “I’ll have you locked up for the rest of your natural life for laying hands on me,  _ Alpha _ .”

 

“Get out!” Carolyn barked, planting herself between them. Gordon stormed out, but before the door even shut behind him they could hear him calling for security. All eyes turned to Martin.

 

“Oh my god…” Martin breathed, looking at his bloodied fist. Horror gripped him as he realized just how bad this was and he felt physically sick. “O-oh god...I  _ hit _ him!”

 

“Martin,” Carolyn said sharply, commanding his attention and looking him directly in the eyes. “You don’t say anything. To anyone. Understand? Not a word.”

 

Martin nodded, feeling tears welling up. He’d never been in trouble,  _ real _ trouble, like this before.

 

“Not a word.” Carolyn repeated firmly.

  
“Not a word.” Martin echoed, and then the door burst open and he was being pulled away by security, Douglas holding Arthur back from the din of confusion.


End file.
